Bloodlust
by Saltandsweat
Summary: COMPLETED 231003 Finally it's finished! Slash. Rated for darker themes. Severus Snape is taken over by a strange force, a force that makes him do terrible things ...
1. Terror in the Hallway

A/N: This is an idea I had while I was lying in bed one night, and it still sounded quite good when I woke up, so I supposed perhaps I should write it.

Summary: Severus is taken over by a force greater than him, a force that makes him do terrible things …

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters – they belong to JK Rowling. But the idea _is_ mine.

BLOODLUST

Chapter One

Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts, stared steadily into the liquid-mirror over his desk, and swallowed. Slowly he raised his hands to his face and traced his fingers over the pale skin, over the hooked nose, rubbing, massaging. He caught his own eye in the glassy surface and studied himself, keeping his face carefully expressionless. He swallowed again. Now was the time. He let his hands travel down his body, across his bare chest, caressing his stomach. When he reached the top of his trousers, he stopped, and he let the delicate flesh quiver for a second.

'Do it, Severus.' The black rock on Severus' desk flickered.

Severus moved his head sharply up, back to the mirror, watching the dark eyes that stared at him blazing. Then he closed his eyes and plunged his hand under the black material.

The stone flared, and then went completely black.

*****

When Severus woke up a few minutes later to find his body spent, he remembered nothing.

He knew what had happened. It had happened before, many times. He had grown accustomed to it, and now he only felt a slight twinge of helplessness.

He threw a slightly furtive glance around the room, and his gaze came to rest on the obsidian in front of him. It was still at the moment, lifeless on the polished wood. Most people would probably be fooled. But Severus was _not _most people, and so he kept watching, waiting. He was not wrong.

The Mark on his arm exploded into pain, and the obsidian suddenly burned, gleamed blood-red, and Severus' gaze was locked through his agony, and a voice whispered, a voice that spoke in a harsh, spitting language, reminding him of the thrill of the hunt, the joy of the kill, the exhilaration he always felt seizing a living body and beating it, squeezing the tenuous life from it until it was nothing but a corpse, a tribute to his prowess, and in all this excitement stood the clear image of a boy, sixteen, smooth skin unblemished and clear, with bright emerald eyes, and those glasses, those stupid fucking glasses …

Severus only thought to throw his robe around him before he seized his wand and let the whisper envelope him again, let it take him out of his rooms and towards the boy, the bastard child he hated, for the first time, to eliminate him.

The obsidian lay, still glowing, in his room.

*****

Harry Potter, meanwhile, was tiptoeing through the darkened common room, Invisibility Cloak tightly kept to his shoulders. His fingertips tingled, and there was a pleasant warm sensation between his legs. He smiled in affectionate anticipation. Draco would be waiting. He glanced down at the Marauder's Map, more as a nervous twitch than as a suspicion that anyone was coming. All seemed normal.

The memory of the beginning of Draco's and his relationship crept into his mind. _That_ had been anything but normal.

_A scuffle, a few blows exchanged without any real desire to inflict pain, rolling madly on the floor, trying to pin the other down to gain the freedom he needed to yell insults at his enemy … and then the sudden tightening at Harry's groin, the startled expression on Draco's face. A moment of stillness, calculating and consideration, and then Draco's arms wrapped around Harry's neck and they were kissing, and Harry had never known such desire, such surprise so expertly moulded into pleasure …_

Harry's stomach jolted as he remembered that kiss, the utter dismissal of anyone else in the world just so they could be together. Draco hadn't visibly changed since then – he and Harry still insulted each other in public, but now they did not touch, for the certainty that they would instantly collapse into each other's arms. Even the words were said more casually, and they were interspersed with silent kisses that had to be substantiated at night. Draco had been promoted from deliberate exclusion from Harry's life to desperate inclusion _in_ it. All they had left to do now was to hope that nobody noticed.

A sudden movement on the parchment in his hand suddenly made Harry look down, and stiffen, and gasp inaudibly. Snape was no longer in his rooms. Now he was moving fast, running, it seemed, and he was heading straight for Harry!

Harry knew he was invisible, of course, but it didn't stop him being more than a little nervous – Professor Snape wanted him expelled … he could still remember the incident in the Shrieking Shack. Snape's eyes – they'd been so bright, burning almost …

Harry shuddered. He had to move.

He turned and started to jog back in the opposite direction. Then he heard quick, heavy footsteps, and began to sprint in terror, intent on nothing but getting out of Snape's way …

*****

Severus could not control the urge that was taking him towards Harry, could not stop even though an irritatingly calm voice told him that the whole thing was an illusion, that he would regret killing the boy …

He was laughing as he ran, bloodthirsty snarling laughter, and his wand flashed red fire. The kill was close.

Then the corridor veered, and there was Potter, clinging to a useless cloak, face aghast that Severus could see him. God, he was so stupid, of course Severus could see him, the Cloak didn't work when he was looking through the eyes of his Master, and everything looked red.

Severus ripped the cloak from the boy triumphantly and struck him on the side of the head, sending him flying to the ground. The bloodlust roared in his ears, and he advanced on the cowering Potter, ready to carve his Master's designs into that beautiful pale skin, to make him cry out in agony. 'Potter …'

In Severus' rooms, Dumbledore, roused in the night and waiting for him to return, idly picked up the obsidian and looked into its surface.

Then everything was so greeny-blue and the red was gone, and Harry was Harry, and Severus gave a low moan, although he could not remember it, as he realised what he must have been about to do. 'Harry, I'm so sorry, please, it's me, please, I'm not going to hurt you … Harry, please, I can explain.'

Harry stared at him in mingled suspicion and horror. 'What are you _doing?'_

'Harry, I'm so sorry, I … I lost control for a few minutes. I'm myself again now. Please, I don't want to hurt you. The stone … in my room …' He gasped. Someone must be there. The stone only went quiet if someone saw its heat – someone must be in his rooms. He looked again at Harry, pleading that he would believe him so that he could leave.

Those beautiful arms were entwined around his neck, the bewildered lips on his own, and he understood suddenly the undertakings his Master had forced on him, for he wanted the boy so much …

'NO!' Severus forced the cry out, and the image fled. It had never happened, surely … he couldn't have done that. 'Harry?'

'Professor?' Harry replied with a totally bewildered expression on his face. Had he seen the desire in Severus' eyes? No, of course he couldn't … he was much too frightened to register anything that subtle at the moment. 

'Harry, listen. I have a stone in my room, black, obsidian …'

Dumbledore decided that Severus was not returning anytime soon, and left Snape's rooms. The obsidian began to glow slyly.

Suddenly the boy he was talking to was an object of intense irritation, a Gryffindor who must be crushed if his Master was to rule, and Severus lunged forward and grabbed the boy by the shoulders, and shook him and struck him, and fumbled frenziedly in his robes for a knife, a weapon of some kind, so he could bleed the life from this man-child. His fingers closed on something cold, something hard and metallic, but it was not a weapon. Instead he yanked out a piece of shiny hematite, pure grey and so bright, so powerful. His eyes were lost in its surface.

'Neutral,' he said distractedly. Holding the stone seemed to oppress the bloodlust in his heart, and dissolve it in calm. He looked back up at Harry, who was shaking violently. Severus could tell that every inch of his body wanted to tear from his grip and flee. Then he remembered what he had done – he had tried to kill him. He had tried to kill the hero of the wizarding world. The enormity of killing the Boy Who Lived suddenly hit him, and he felt his face grow very cold. 'Harry -' he faltered. The name held a peculiar significance in his stomach, and it churned. Something flickered between his legs. 

Then, all at once, he broke down in tears, and fled into the darkness.

*****

Please review … ^_^


	2. After Effects of Fear

A/N: Wow, the response for the first chapter was incredible, and it's really encouraged me to continue with this story. Thanks all of you!!

*****

BLOODLUST 

Chapter 2

Harry watched Snape run in a kind of helpless neutrality, his body and mind too shocked and frightened to be coherent. When the sound of the man running finally faded, and the echoes were left to the history of Hogwarts, he sank down onto the floor, blindly leaning against the wall.

Had Snape really tried to kill him?

Harry knew that the Potions Master hated him, but he had always assumed that hatred had stemmed from a dislike of his father, and so was nothing more than a very strong bias. But Snape had just appeared to prove that completely wrong. He had attacked him, with wild eyes and flailing limbs, _attacked_ him, attacked to kill. 

Harry shuddered as he remembered Snape's face, twisted and angry, red eyed. He had seemed … Harry did not like to believe in religion, but he had seemed _possessed_. He had never seen Snape like that. Nor, he was sure, had any of the other students.

Ah, but there was that time in the Shrieking Shack … 

Harry pushed the thought down sharply. Snape had just been incredibly angry then, surely. Harry did not remember the same searing terror he had felt a few minutes ago, and he did not remember the redness of Snape's eyes. He was still afraid now, afraid to move in case Snape changed his mind and returned, afraid that he had not gone at all, but was waiting for Harry to turn his back. 

Then he shook himself and looked down at the Marauder's Map. There was no one near him. Snape was still in a corner of his room, presumably having fallen asleep before he had reached his bed. Or was he really asleep?

Harry remembered the suddenness with which the Professor had been jerked out of his madness, the haunted, self-loathing expression in his eyes when he looked at Harry, the utter shame with which he had asked quietly for forgiveness. Surely he would not be able to sleep. 

The horror of Snape's realisation certainly fitted with the idea that he had been possessed. And Snape … or a demon … had seen through the Cloak, which he had never been able to do before. It was very strange, and very frightening.

Suddenly he remembered Draco, and gasped, looking at his watch. It was nearly eleven, half an hour after they were supposed to have met. He looked down the corridor, at the stillness of the dark, the total silence. For an age he waited, hoping that his love, or lust, for Draco would persuade him to go on and brave the emptiness of Hogwarts. It didn't.

Harry sighed. There was no way he could go on now – even if he did reach Draco in safety, he wouldn't be able to give his lover any satisfaction. He passed a hand across his brow. Fear had exhausted him, and as he lowered his hand he noticed it was still shaking. _No_, he told himself. _Go back and explain in the morning. Perhaps it'll do Draco good to be unsatisfied occasionally._

He smiled, a little bitterly, as he flitted on silent feet back towards the common room. This was the story of their relationship – neither of them was sure how long the feelings would last, and the idea that one would lose his affections for the other was a prospect that scared them both. So they played simple little games, not voicing the fears openly but ensuring that they would want to go on. Draco might think Harry didn't care about him for a night, but he would end up loving Harry even more, and a few sly winks to Draco in the morning would soon put the whole thing right.

The common room was deserted; it gave no sign that it had heard the violence that had occurred a short way from it. Not even Crookshanks, asleep by the glowing fire, had stirred. Harry paused, and considered. He had intended to go to bed – his muscles ached with weariness – but his mind was not in a state that would easily convert to slumber. He would not sleep tonight.

Grimly, Harry collapsed into an armchair near the fire, and let his head tip backwards.

'I was wondering where you'd got to.' The voice came from the shadows under the stairway to the dormitories.

Harry's mind jumped, but his body simply did not want the effort of moving, and so he gave a rather pleasing impression of not being startled in the least. 'Who's there?' 

The person spoke again: 'Harry,' and suddenly Harry recognised the voice.

'_Draco!_' he exclaimed. 'How did you get in?'

'I sneaked in when Granger and that Weasley of hers left for their little hidey-hole. Where have you been?'

'I -' Harry began lamely. He wanted to tell Draco what had happened, to confide his fears and nervousness to him. But somehow it didn't feel right. The event seemed strangely personal, almost as if it had been meant for him and him alone. He did not want to share it yet, for although he had wanted to run from Snape, he had felt an inappropriate compassion for him when he was so ashamed. He didn't understand it, and Draco definitely wouldn't. So, for now, he was keeping the whole thing to himself. 'I ran into Mrs Norris,' he lied eventually.

Draco emerged from his hiding place and came to stand in front of Harry, hands on his hips. Then he leaned forward, his face inches from Harry's own, their legs pressing firmly together. 'Harry, Harry,' he breathed slowly. 'What are we going to do with you?'

Harry smiled wryly, the tension suddenly gone. 'I'll let you decide, _darling_.'

Draco's lips twitched in amusement. Then he leaned down quickly and kissed Harry hard on the mouth.

As they both relaxed into the kiss, Harry pulled Draco down, so he was lying on top of Harry, between his legs. Harry moaned softly as they pushed towards each other. '_Draco …'_

'Harry,' Draco replied in an infuriatingly calm voice, despite the violence of his movements.

Harry moaned again. 'You smug … bastard.'

His lover smiled. 'You're the bastard, Harry, you swine. You stood me up, remember?'

'Not – my – fault,' Harry said through clenched teeth, trying desperately not to let his sex drive into his speech.

Draco gave a low, seductive laugh, and Harry gave up, pulled his lover closer to him and proceeded to seduce him as best he could. But Draco was not immune to arousal either, and soon both were tearing at each other's clothes, no longer seeing the reason why the material was there.

Draco was lowering himself down between Harry's legs, when Crookshanks mewed. Draco jumped up in fright, half naked. 'What the _fuck_ was that?'

'Hermione's cat,' Harry told him in an irritated voice. Bloody creature. Robbing him of Draco's attention … why, the animal should be in Azkaban. 'Draco, come here …'

'Hang on. Can that creature talk to Gra – _Hermione_?'

Harry shrugged. 'No idea. Don't think so … please, Draco, come here … pretty please?'

Draco raised a hand at him slowly for silence, not taking his eyes off Crookshanks, then leapt onto the cat with strangely feline agility, clamping a hand over its mouth and grasping it round the middle with the other hand. Then he carried it over to the door to the stairs, opened the door and let Crookshanks run through it before closing it again and dusting off his hands. 

He was bare-chested throughout this whole enterprise, and Harry could not take his eyes off the blonde-headed body as he walked about the common room. He prayed that Draco intended to stay.

'Okay, let's get down to some _serious _business, Harry.' Draco returned to the armchair and straddled Harry's thighs, wrapping his arms around his neck. 'Want me?'

Harry had learned by now to recognise the beginnings of one of their games, and so he cocked his head, as if in consideration. 'Maybe,' he said finally. 'I'm not too sure.'

'I think you do,' Draco told him softly. He slid a hand down Harry's chest, letting him tremble, but paused at his jeans. 'Am I right?'

'Hmmm.'

The hand retreated up to Harry's chest, then travelled back down, firmer this time, and going a little way over Harry's jeans. Harry watched him, hoping his face was unreadable. 

'_Am I right?'_

'Quite possibly, Draco,' Harry replied calmly. Then he let his voice slur seductively. 'It's getting more likely, though …'

Again Draco's hand moved up, then down, and this time rubbed over Harry's groin. 'Am I right?' He pushed harder into Harry's crotch.

A sudden intake of breath. Harry threw his head back, and let out a long sigh. 'God, yes.' 

Draco had won. He usually won, and Harry had been especially expecting it tonight, when he was too tired to put up much resistance. 'Just fuck me Draco, would you, _dear?_'

Draco smiled in satisfaction, and then proceeded to take off his and Harry's clothes and do exactly as Harry had asked. 

As they curled up naked together, a question crossed Harry's mind immediately answered by his sleepily sated body. Draco was the only one who could make him both sane in feelings, and insane with desire? Sane and insane.

Definitely.

And Snape … well, he would have to see about _him_ tomorrow. Tomorrow.

*****

A/N: Well, what do you think? A _certain_ person asked me for more Harry/ Draco, so I thought I'd provide it. Please review! And thanks again to those of you who have reviewed so far.


	3. Demons in the Dungeon

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, except the random flamer. It's really appreciated and I hope fervently that you will continue to read and comment on this fic.

BLOODLUST 

Chapter 3

Harry's supposition had been right – Severus did not sleep. Even after dosing himself repeatedly with various potions, his head still ached with thoughts that refused to let in the drowsy liquid. He could not bring himself to lie down; he could not bring himself to stay standing; he could not bring himself to sit at his desk … the obsidian was still there. When he turned his back on it, he could feel its fire burning his back. It seared his face when he looked at it. He drifted about his rooms in a state of complete indecision.

It was a strange feeling, being half under someone else's control: your emotions and opinions were completely mingled and it was impossible to distinguish between the real, and the imposed. Severus was having immense trouble determining his feelings about the smallest thing … whether red eyes were a good look, for example. 

At the centre of his confusion, though, lay his emotions about Harry Potter. As Severus Snape, an independent thinker capable of making his own decisions, he simply disliked the boy. Disliked him to the point of being unfair. However, the imposer made things so much more complicated … when he was in his bloodlust, he hated the boy so much he would die a thousand painful deaths to see him eliminated. But in that moment when the madness left him, he looked at that clear, bewildered face, and saw more than a miniature James Potter. He saw a lover.

Severus would have loved to believe that it was simply a moment of mixed emotions, when he wasn't sure what he wanted. But the hematite never lied, and the bold possibility was staring him in the face that it was a fleeting time of sanity and knowing, that under everything, every paper-thin layer of cold civility that he had plastered over himself, every deceiving thought he pushed himself into believing, _he wanted Harry._

Surely not.

*****

Harry's only memory of Draco leaving the previous night was the vague sense of the warmth on his back, his neck, his legs, being replaced by cool material. Hermione had returned with Fred a couple of hours later, and had been startled to find Harry in his armchair, covered only by his robe. Harry had managed, even in his satisfied, spent, sleepy state, to lie that he was hot and couldn't sleep. Then he had gone to bed. By the next morning, he had completely forgotten about Snape.

His weary brain did not even connect when he noted that he had Potions just before lunch. There was the inevitable feeling of dread, the faint panic before he remembered that he indeed _had_ done the various essays they had been set. He thought the word 'Snape' in his mind a dozen times, but his mind refused to acknowledge it. He was to wonder about that later.

At breakfast, Draco shot him a particularly venomous look, which Harry returned, one hand going unconsciously to the front of his trousers to hide whatever he suspected might be there. _Swine._

He got some fairly innocent pleasure, though, out of teasing Hermione and Fred about their little meeting. They both blushed immediately, but Hermione's face was proud, and Fred's wryly affectionate. Harry smiled tolerantly, trying to feign shock, disapproval, and amusement at the same time. Secretly, he was very pleased about the whole thing – it _was_ very sweet, the way they adored each other. Besides, it drew the attention away from himself.

'It's a shame,' Fred remarked with dignified wisdom, 'that not everyone can be as happy and Hermione and me.' He jerked his head towards the staff table. 'Snape looks like he's had a rough night.' 

Harry felt his face grow very cold, and for a moment the world seemed to freeze as his brain went into overdrive, remembering, processing, dreading. He looked at Snape, and their eyes locked suddenly. The man was pale; his face was bleak, and his eyes haunted with guilt and self-loathing. The gaze he was directing at Harry was confused, but, typically for Snape, level and unflinching.

'Oh, fuck.' He let his head sink into his hands in the horror of memory.

'Harry?' Ron prodded him. 'You ok?'

_Would that it were._

'Potions,' he muttered to himself. A whole double lesson with Snape, both of them stepping around each other like two circling animals. Harry had always looked forward to the time when Snape would be afraid of him, rather than the other way around … but he hadn't wanted this. He'd _never_ wanted to reduce Snape to such a wreck, he knew.

_Potions is going to be interesting,_ he thought grimly.

*****

Harry's face at breakfast. That shock, the disbelief, the terror implicit in that stare. The bewilderment. The beautiful – _beautiful?_ – eyes, filled with uncertainty.

It was almost more than Severus could bear. 

*****

Harry settled onto his stool uneasily, his eyes darting about as they searched for the Potions teacher in the hidden corners of the dungeons. Tiny hisses made him jump in fright. His nerves were crumbling.

'Harry, what's _wrong_ with you?' Ron asked in exasperation. 'You've been like this all morning. You _have _done your homework, yes?'

Harry nodded vaguely. 'Oh, yes,' he murmured. 

Ah, Ron. How little you know. How much I feel I should tell you, yet how little you'd end up aware of. Ignorance is bliss, yes?

Ron gave a long-suffering sigh and nudged Hermione. 'Probably worried Snape'll find out about you and Fred, and blame it on him,' he told her. 'Although I suppose this is Snape we're talking about. He could do it, I reckon.'

'Thank you, Mr Weasley. I dare say I could, but I would be grateful if you kept your opinions to yourself. That'll be five points.' The low, cold voice crept through the dungeon, and every student suddenly sat up very straight, not sure where Snape was but not daring to look about for him. Ron gulped loudly; a few sniggers were provoked but hastily muffled.

Harry also jumped to attention, struggling desperately to stop himself from shaking. What if Snape went mad, here and now? What if he decided that his hatred for Harry overrode anything else, and tried to kill him in front of everyone? He shuddered very slightly.

Snape appeared at the front of the classroom, although it was anybody's guess where he had come from. 'Good morning, class,' he greeted silkily. 'I hope we've all finished our conversations for the morning. Now turn to page forty-three in your books, and the topic for the day will be …' 

Suddenly he caught Harry's eye, and for a brief time they stared at each other, enemies, hating and fearing, but each at the same time wondering, hoping, and believing that he understood. Then Snape recovered his composure, and cleared his throat before continuing. 'The topic will be mind-affecting potions. Page forty-three.'

Harry's main aim for the lesson was simply to try to keep out of Snape's way, to draw as little attention to himself as he could. But part of him could not help _watching_, trying to work out exactly what was happening to his teacher. Snape's eyes turned a little wild whenever he looked at Harry; wild not only with dismayed guilt, but with something else that Harry could not quite determine …

There was a loud whisper from across the classroom. 'I bet Potter's been mind-affected already. Look at him, he can't even turn the page!'

Harry snapped his head sideways to look straight at Draco, and in the moment their eyes met, they wanted each other. But Draco's eyes were questioning, asking him what was the matter. This annoyed Harry somehow. What right had Draco to interfere in affairs that were none of his business? They were lovers, nothing more.

'Shut up, Malfoy,' he shot back, and the irritation was not feigned.

'Quiet!' Snape's voice rang in the two boys' ears. 'Malfoy … get on with your work. Potter, I want a word with you after the lesson.'

There was a very audible gasp at the unfairness of Snape's words, but Snape silenced any following mutters with well-placed glares. Harry took a deep breath. He suspected that Snape wasn't simply being his usual charming self, and that he actually wanted to talk to Harry. The idea terrified him – they would be alone, totally alone, in the most isolated part of the school, save the Forest. Snape could do _anything_ he liked. But a significant piece of Harry was hoping that he wanted to apologise, and explain. And so he nodded sullenly.

When finally they were dismissed, and everyone else had gone, Snape beckoned Harry to the front of the classroom. Harry approached cautiously, tightening his grip on his wand in his pocket.

'Potter … Harry. You can be in no doubt as to what I want to talk to you about.'

'No, sir.'

Snape waved the 'sir' away with a thin hand, and motioned to a chair next to his desk. 'Please, don't. Sit down.'

Slowly Harry sat. His brain was going into total overdrive, frantically trying to connect wires to conclude what Snape was doing.

'I think I owe you an … an explanation. About last night.' Snape drew out the shiny grey stone from his pocket and laid it on the desk. 'You see, the madness, it's … it's not mine.' He rolled up his left sleeve to reveal what Harry already knew was there. 'I've left Voldemort. He knows it. But he can still control me by channelling his power to me through obsidian. That's a stone, in case you didn't know.' For a moment, his voice was sarcastic and scornful again, and Harry almost smiled.

'I know.' 

'When I'm attached to him in this way, he can control my mental state, my personality. I become whatever he wants me to be. After we're … disconnected … I can't remember anything. So I still don't know exactly what I did … to you.' His face became pleading, hoping. 'I was wondering whether you could tell me.'

Harry searched Snape's face intently. Everything that he had said made sense; it explained so much – the red gleam in Snape's eyes, the madness, the uncharacteristic loss of control … and his state of mind now.

Slowly he began to speak, trying to remember what had happened. A couple of times he paused, not knowing how to tell Snape what he had tried to do, but the man's face was strong and brave, and Harry felt compelled to tell the truth, even if neither of them liked it.

When he had finished, Snape's expression was one of revulsion as he digested the information, tried to fit it into memory. 'God, Harry … after I did that to you … you must despise me.' He stood up, moved around the desk, crouched down before Harry. 'I'm … I'm so sorry, I …'

In the split second before Snape's eyes began to glow red, Harry noticed Snape could no longer see the hematite. Something clicked in his mind, and he launched himself out of the chair, whipping out his wand as he darted away from Snape. He turned, ready to defend himself, and the hematite glinted on the desk. _Get it to Snape_.

Snape was creeping towards him, a low snarl sounding from his throat and his face twisted in the bloodlust. His wand flashed red sparks, and his eyes flickered.

'Expelliarmus!' Harry's voice was trembling, but he still had enough force behind it for it to be effective.

Snape's wand flew from his hand to Harry's, and the Potions master was thrown backwards. Harry wasted no time. He sprinted between the benches, grabbed the hematite from the desk, turned and as Snape threw himself at Harry, he thrust the stone into Snape's face. 

The momentum of Snape's leap carried the two of them onto the floor, Harry crushed under his weight, but Snape was sane again, and breathing fast. 'Harry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, what have I done …'

Then, as Harry looked up into that pale, terrified face, Snape gave a low whimper, lowered his head, and kissed Harry full on the lips.

*****

A/N: Um … please review? 


	4. Self Hatred

A/N: Ok, this chapter is a little darker than some of the others, I think … at least the second half of it is. It's a little thrown together, really, the last two scenes are the reaction before the action, the depressed calm before the storm. Or something. But please bear with me.

*****

BLOODLUST Chapter 4 

Harry immediately stiffened, startled at the feel of someone's lips other than Draco's on his own. They were rougher than his lover's. Snape was staring at him over their mouths. His expression was surprised, shocked at himself, but at the same time there was a kind of helpless enjoyment, a terrible disinclination for their lips to part.

It was a complete stalemate. If Harry tried to move, Snape would too, and things would get very awkward as they both tried to deal with what had just happened. And guilty as Harry felt, ashamed as he was at allowing Draco to be betrayed like this, he was strangely reluctant to break the kiss. The unmentionable crossed his mind – that he was _enjoying_ it. Snape's mouth was so much more experienced than his own … Harry, for the first time, was kissing a fully-grown man, wiser, more knowing, and who knew what he was doing. It sent an exciting thrill down Harry's spine, and instinctively he relaxed his mouth and allowed his lips to part.

Snape's eyes widened as he felt Harry accept him, grew wide with shock and fear, and something that looked like stunned desire. Then he closed his eyes and slipped his tongue into Harry's mouth with a low cry.

Harry suddenly became very aware of Snape's weight on his body. It was comforting and firm, but helplessly demanding more, and the effect it had on Harry's body made him bite his lip to keep from moaning.

'Harry.' Snape broke the kiss and spoke hoarsely. 'If you don't want … don't … don't do anything you'll regret … please.'

'No, I'm – I'm¾' Harry didn't know how to describe exactly how he was feeling. He knew that he might well not look back with pleasure at whatever he was about to do … but it was not enough to make him stop, and soon he gave up and kissed Snape fiercely.

After a minute or so, Snape raised his hand, and locked the door to the dungeons with a few forced words. Harry's intention in those seconds was to gasp Snape's name, to plead with him to continue.

Unfortunately, he was totally unsure what to call the man. _I am kissing someone whom I hate._ Should it be Snape? Severus? _Professor?_ It was a ridiculous crisis, and Harry stifled a slight snigger at himself instead of pronouncing anything. He closed his eyes in amazement, felt Snape's mouth touch his, and then let himself vanish into the embrace, the two pressing together with every muscle straining to be nearer.

But when a hand crept down between their bodies, and began to unbutton Harry's trousers, he started violently, and dragged himself out from under the Potions Master. 'Snape!' he exclaimed. This was not what he wanted, surely. He hated Snape; he always had. Why had he allowed himself to be drawn in for those minutes?

Snape was sitting on the floor, looking a little confused, and very guilty. 'Harry, you … you said¾'

'I know what I said,' Harry replied quietly, 'and I was wrong. I don't want this … and you'll regret it if you do it. Or if you try to rape me.'

Snape flinched, his eyes growing wild with the knowledge that he would have done it, under the obsidian. Harry felt a little guilty at this – he had meant to stop Snape very definitely, but perhaps he had been a little harsh. 'Sorry,' he added reluctantly. 'It's just¾'

'I know,' Snape murmured. 'I know. I shouldn't have … taken advantage. I … I apologise.'

'No, you don't understand!' Harry burst out. 'Snape … it's not that I don't – that I wouldn't … I'm seeing someone. I can't betray … him.' 

Something flickered in Snape's eyes. 'Ah.' He rose, and went to sit on his desk, depositing the hematite next to him with a pale hand. He looked at Harry for a long time, and finally smiled faintly, bitterly. 'You'd better go, then.'

Harry let his eyes linger on Snape's face for the moment, trying to convey the deep regret, the confusion and guilt, that he was feeling. Then slowly he turned away and, gathering up his things, quietly left the room.

As he hauled his feet over the steps up to the main level of the school, he sighed shallowly, not bothering to try to express his unease with air.

Everyone was at lunch. Only two people in the whole school were alone. And an uncertainty lingered in the minds of both, a wondering whether perhaps, in the grey neutral world of the hematite, they should be together. 

*****

Draco could look read his lover's mind. 

He could watch him for a mere second, observe the tilt of his head, the pace of his words, a minute tightening around the eyes, and instantly determine what Harry was thinking, feeling. Draco had spent more than five years watching him; now he knew him better than he knew himself.

Since breakfast that morning, he had noticed a change in Harry. His countenance was disturbed, frightened by something deeper than a simple forgotten homework, deeper than lust or pleasure could snatch away. Last night Harry had been distracted … it had taken one of Draco's less subtle games to claim his attention. And in Potions, when he had made the fake jibe … Draco shivered as he remembered how cold and distant and secretive Harry had looked. His mouth twisted bitterly. His lover was experiencing _something_, something terrible, alone, and he was afraid, afraid, so afraid that a hiss of steam could jolt and scare him. It was clear that he could not confide in Draco; Draco suspected that this meant he had not confided in anyone.

Unless it was something to do with him.

The possibility began to creep into Draco's vulnerable mind, and silently took root.

*****

*****

The perfectly timed clock in the dungeons clanged discordantly, and the wrecked harmonies shivered in the heavy, smoky air. Nine o'clock.

Severus gazed at the hematite, coldly, accusingly. _You did this_.

The stone did not reply. Severus laughed without humour.

Harry had not strayed from Severus' thoughts that afternoon, and Severus had found himself reliving that kiss even while lecturing and deducting house points. When he was unoccupied, he brooded constantly. He had even gone so far as to look into the liquid mirror again to try to know himself. He _never_ looked at it unless his Master's control was approaching. Then he needed the mirror to remind himself that he was human, that he could feel and think and act in a normal fashion, that he was something more than a bloodthirsty servant.

He slammed his hand over the hematite, and the past overtook his fleeing deliberations.

Voldemort smiled cruelly. 'Severus, you disappoint me. Through your lack of sense I have discovered how much you have told them about us, about our intentions. You are a disloyal man, Severus. I am exceptionally disappointed.'

The waiting was fearful. Severus' head would not still, kept flicking its thoughts one way or another, wondering how he was to die, desperate worry for Dumbledore and the rest of Hogwarts, terrible guilt for the mistake that had alerted his Master. 

But he did not regret being a double agent. There had been thousands of lives at stake, but boil those away in the heat of intellect and the whole thing was a game, a game at which Severus was expert. The challenge had given him more enjoyment of life than any hope of love or forgiveness could. Yes, he was ready to die.

He stared at Voldemort, unflinching and strong and young, defiant. 'I am not guilty, Voldemort,' he spat. 'You are the traitor, not I.'

His Master raised an eyebrow. 'Not guilty, Severus?' he asked mockingly.

A cold fear began to expand in Severus' stomach. He was guilty about betraying Dumbledore and the Ministry. It was a simple guilt, without intricacy, and he could live with it. But Voldemort's power stretched far beyond the human capacity to handle. When Severus was a boy, under the influence of his parents, he had admired his Master's ability to manipulate.

Now he feared it.

'Severus, I am afraid that simple physical punishment would not do you much harm now,' Voldemort remarked. 'Perhaps we should give you your guilt.' A black rock appeared in his hand, and with a word he broke off a piece and threw it at Severus. 'Have it. Do not try to dispose of it; it will come back. Cherish it. It will give you experience beyond anything you have ever known.'

He began to turn away, then looked back. 'And forget about treason, Severus. It does no good. The obsidian will see to that.'

The liquid mirror had been purchased a week later. After the first demonstration of Voldemort's new control. The awful compulsion to slide his hand into his crotch, always with something sick at the front of his mind. Rape … torture … unmentionable. When he was sane, such things made Severus ill with memory. But in the red of the obsidian, the idea gave him release, and he relished it.

The mirror. It made him see things truly, not as he wanted them to be or wished they could be, or even imagined they were, but as they really stood.

And the obsidian. He had known that Voldemort harboured obsidian for his whole time in service. And his coveting of the DADA job rendered him well versed in the three stones of power. It had not taken him long to obtain the hematite to give him sanity.

But now the hematite had turned on him, it seemed. It agreed with the obsidian, that he really did want Harry. Although the obsidian told Severus to tear Harry apart, to ravish him until he died, the hematite said that this was an illusion, and exaggeration of Severus' desire for the boy. 

How could it be that such a child could be desirable? He was barely sixteen. Not old enough for sex with another man, and certainly not old enough for Severus. Plus, it was illegal, and after Severus' confession of the Mark, the man was unwilling to defy the law again. But the law seemed ridiculous in the face of the raw lust Severus had felt. Even the thought of Harry shifted his loins. And he had not been purely aroused for years, if at all. Sex was a terrible thing in his background.

Voldemort had been right about the guilt, though. It was beyond anything the human mind could name, sickening, driving him mad. It took the strongest of liquid mirrors, and the most pure of hematite to keep Severus' soul intact.

Severus glanced at the mirror for truth … but it was red, and the obsidian danced in front of it. He whimpered, held by the bloody swirls, and then, helplessly, began to let his hand crawl across his stomach.

*****

A/N: Reviews, please? Thanks to all who have reviewed so far, by the way.


	5. The Peril of the Living Death

A/N: The response to the last chapter was a little mediocre compared to the others … so I'm wondering whether there was something wrong with it. Obviously I love getting good reviews but if you think I'm doing something wrong, I want to know! Otherwise we might as well give up and spend our time doing something else. But it has been a long time since the last chapter, so if you're at all annoyed, which is unlikely, I apologise deeply and with a graceful, much overdone bow.

Warnings: This chapter is dark, and explicit in some ways, so please, if you don't like that stuff, get out. Although I suppose you have endured the last four chapters, so you're probably all right.

BLOODLUST Chapter 5 

_Draco_.

_Draco._

Harry stared wide-eyed and shocked, into the empty grate of the common room. His hands were curled and stiff over the arms of the chair, and his back was arched and tense. He did not know how many hours he had been in this position: four, five, maybe. His muscles screamed at him to move, to relax, to sleep. He could not breathe without pain, and his head throbbed. Doing nothing was certainly wearisome.

The rest of the day after that Potions lesson had been a vague shadow he could not remember. How he had fought the depression until now he could not remember. Why Ron and Hermione were not at his side, trying to persuade him to release, he could only guess. Perhaps they knew everything. Perhaps they were no longer his friends.

_Draco._

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Perhaps Draco knew too.

Harry's already tensed body jumped. _Perhaps he knows_. Perhaps they were no longer lovers.

The guilt and confusion might have been bearable had it not been for the last twelve hours. The wondering, the desperate torn state, feeble and sobbing attempts to wrench his mind away from – 

_No._

He dragged his eyes away from the dark fireplace, forced himself to lean back into the cushions, and passed a hand jerkily across his face. Had anyone been in the common room that night? 

Midnight. Midnight with no plans for slumber.

_Severus_.

'No.' Harry's voice was groggy, and he could not summon the effort to shout, but there was an anguished determination in it that made him shiver. He smiled grimly. _It is a terrible life you lead when your own voice makes you cold._

_Severus_.

'Oh, God,' he murmured. His limbs were beginning to shake violently in fatigue.

_Harry, you have to get out. Get out, do something … find a way to sleep_.

Wormwood and asphodel. Draught of the Living Dead. Potions, dungeons … _Severus_.

He let his mind rest on the concept for a few seconds. _Draco … what have I done?_

Then he set his chin. 'Do I have any other choice?' he asked the darkness. Severus would be in bed. The dungeons would be deserted. He had his Cloak. He had done this before. Five minutes down to the dungeons. It was inevitable that Severus … _Snape … _would know who was responsible, but he would not have the courage to investigate it.

_Or are you underestimating Severus Snape?_

'No,' he said again. 'I'll go.' He waited a full minute more, then suddenly he was upright, feet dancing on the floor, dodging the cold of the stone, in the dormitory, Cloak in his hand and then out of the portrait hole.

To desire a teacher … a teacher whom he was supposed to hate, whom he did not want … to betray his lover and enjoy it … what could be worse? 

Now he was faced with the possibility that the affair with Draco was not right, that he should be with Severus, illicit and exciting and so experienced. Severus' charms were not difficult to find, once you had tasted his lips. But Draco … was the labour of nighttimes to be wasted? Had they spent so much sweat in loving each other that there was nothing more to be done?

The Living Dead was starting to sound very attractive.

The door to the dungeons was unlocked, which surprised and cautioned Harry. Severus was not a careless man. He would have no reason to leave his territory open to the world. But Harry dismissed the matter almost immediately. He did not care. He opened the door, and walked into the dark laboratory.

_Unless he's not in bed._

Harry tensed as he felt what he realised immediately had always been inevitable.

'Don't sneak, Potter, just take what you need and go.'

The cry did not slip from Harry's mouth. He was too weary to jump. He merely removed the Cloak, murmured in a broken voice to his wand, and waited for the yellow glow to light Severus' face, tall and cornered. 'Draught of the Living Dead,' he explained briefly, coldly, then turned away before he could react to seeing Severus again. Perhaps it would be this easy. Perhaps he could pretend.

'Asphodel and wormwood.' Severus' eyes were still dark and tunnel-like, but at the same time sad, full of bitter self-mocking. His voice was tired, but the richness of it that had haunted Harry that evening was still there, and it chilled him.

Harry quietly went into the stores and took a small bottle, neatly labelled in parchment and brown ink, enveloping black liquid. Then he paused, calculated his route across the classroom so he could both reach the door quickly and avoid Severus. The Cloak would come in useful … except he had left it at the door. So Severus would see him leave.

'Potter … Harry.' Severus formed the word reluctantly, but there was a sigh in the 'H' and resignation in the last syllable.

Harry walked out of the stores and faced Severus, face impassive, eyes bored and burning, daring him to try.

'I would not … I would not wish for things to be uneasy between us.' Severus met Harry's eyes quickly and then looked away.

Suddenly Harry laughed. He laughed for minutes, finding nothing amusing but trying to frighten. 'Snape, look what you've done to me. You're perverted … you're a beast. You made me do things I would _never_ do. I don't want you. I've as good as ruined a … a happy relationship. I can't look my friends, or my teachers, in the eye. I'm so ashamed I want to rip my skin off.' His voice grew softer. 'Look what you've done to me.'

Severus snapped his head up, eyes narrowed. 'Do you think,' he asked in a harsh voice, 'that it was my fault? My fault, everything? And you, and … whoever it is … ruined … didn't you do that too? You accepted me; briefly, yes, but you did. You _moaned._ What did you think you were doing if you're saying this now?'

Harry brushed off the truth of Severus' words easily, letting the anger wash over him, but some of the shame infiltrated, and he became defensive. He protested: 'Snape¾'

'Don't,' Severus snarled. '_Think_ about what I've said, boy. It's true. _You_ ruined the relationship between yourself and Malfoy. It's _your_ fault too.'

Harry stared, aghast. How could he know it was Draco? 'You - you know?' And now it was true, and he groaned in anguish as he realised the reality of what Severus had said. And with a shock he discovered that he still thought _Severus,_ not _Snape_, but _Severus_, and he groaned again, and let tears fall.

Severus watched him wrestle with the guilt for a time, and then nodded slowly. 'Not the most pleasant of emotions, is it?' he remarked casually, cynically, and Harry's sobs grew stronger, and he threw himself down onto the floor, crying furiously.

Eventually he quieted, and sat still against a desk. It was hopeless. Nothing seemed as pleasure any longer. 

A stab of vulnerable awareness pierced his mind, and he suddenly realised how alone he felt. He let his head rest back to the hard wood, and rubbed it with his hair, relishing its substance. _Oh, would that I were a bird with guiltless wings._ 'I've lost my family,' he murmured, 'I've lost my friends … I've lost my teachers.' 

Severus shifted slightly, moved his feet. 'Not … not all your teachers.' His voice was tentative and uncertain, but there was no mistaking the affection. 'I'm here … I'll always be there. You don't have to stay at Hogwarts.'

Harry looked at him. 'Snape … Severus … you're too old … you … you …' His voice trailed off.

The red glow was back in Snape's eyes. 

As Harry watched him, eyes unblinking, a mouse playing dead, Snape's mouth widened into a leering grin. 'Harry Potter.' He raised his right hand, and slowly placed it over his crotch. 'Harry …'

'Severus …' Harry tried desperately to say something that could prevent the madness returning, 'Severus, it's not real, remember the hematite, the neutral, you're being fooled again, it's madness, bloodlust, _neutral, hematite!'_

Snape's grin twisted slightly. 'Bloodlust … blood. _Yours_.' He purred softly, a growl of adolescent kittens. 'Come to me, Harry Potter.' He removed his hand and extended it towards Harry. 'Come and kiss me.'

Suddenly, without warning, he strode to Harry and pulled him up against the desk, hands on his shoulders. 'Kiss me, Harry, go on …'

'Hematite,' Harry whimpered helplessly as Severus' mouth covered his, 'neutral.' He was dead. There was no possibility of escaping now. Snape would rape him. And torture him. And kill him. The hematite was too far.

And so was Draco. And suddenly the love that swelled his veins burst, and he realised that he and Draco were finished, and the unjustness of it all gave him spirit. He forced his knee up into Snape's crotch, and the tall man jumped slightly but then renewed his incarceration of Harry's mouth with a snarl.

_Right._

Harry braced himself, assessing, letting Snape's lips bruise his while he thought. Yes … there was no other way. And so he forced his hand down to Snape's trousers and pressed on the false hardness there, intent on giving as much pleasure as he could, as quickly as he could.

Snape groaned, and then again, and Harry knew he was succeeding. He opened his mouth, let the ruthless tongue in, while caressing and unbuttoning Snape's trousers with his limited fingers. His thoughts were blurred and pictured, not clearly conceived with precision, but the jumping of ideas that favoured him. He had to seduce the man. Even in his madness, he had to seduce him.

The groans grew louder, and the tongue stronger, and suddenly Harry realised that he was aroused. The madness had not taken away his physical desire, and now he was feeling the effects. His factual knowledge seemed to have no influence now, not when he was in the power of the experienced, the alluring. Now he wanted to escape, but he wanted to stay. Wanted to leave, wanted to have. 'Severus …' he moaned between the kisses.

Then a hissing voice spoke through the gloom. 'Harry … Potter.'

Severus immediately spun towards that voice, and the darkness pulled him to the floor where he whispered: 'Master.'

And Harry, pale and swollen-lipped, looked into the eyes of Lord Voldemort.

*****

A/N: I'm sorry if anyone got pissed off with me, seeing as this took so long, I know it has been a while. But I did get writer's block. Sniff. Anyways, I would love reviews if you're offering them … please? 


	6. Holiness of Haematite

A/N: I am SO sorry this has taken so long … every time I thought about sitting down and writing it, I just didn't know what to put … but I'm going to try. Thank you so much to all of you who have reviewed, it is extremely appreciated.

Oh, by the way, I don't think there's very much of the story left, wherever it's going. So the end is fairly nigh.

*****

# BLOODLUST

** **

## Chapter 6

Only an hour ago, Harry had looked upon himself and seen evil, the very essence that betrays and hurts while laughing. But now it was shifted, transferred, onto the being he saw stood before him, and his servant. Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord had been there for a few minutes now, and most of that time had been taken up with staring at Harry, examining him, his red eyes unreadable for their colour, mouth smirking in terrible knowledge. Eventually, though, he spoke. 'Mr Potter.'

The surprise of the words made Harry jump, and turn aggressive. 'What do you want, _Voldemort?_' He could not help but be aware of Severus, kneeling before him, head cocked in obedient listening, ready to defend. He had best watch his tongue. Even Severus alone could not be resisted easily.

'Why, Potter, your _corruption_ and _greed_ drew me to you,' Voldemort said airily, undertoned mocking and disgust. 'I had no idea that the righteous, virtuous Harry Potter could conduct such depravity. Naturally, I was forced to investigate.'

Harry sighed heavily. He seemed safe for now. Voldemort was not subtle enough to try and trick him with words. It was Severus he was really afraid of, and Severus was under the control of the unsubtle. 'What do you want to know, then?'

'Well, you know that the younger Malfoy will soon be my servant … I wanted to see what his _lover_ had become from guilt and knowing that he ought to be the famous Harry Potter that everyone loves.'

'Malfoy will _never_ be yours!' Harry shouted. 'He told me. He'll never join you.' And then he gasped and clapped his hands to his mouth as he realised how much danger Draco was now in.

'Really?' Voldemort enquired. 'That's not what he said to _me_. It appears that the little brat has been lying. Why don't we ask him, and see if we can find the truth?' Then the Dark Lord clicked his fingers, and suddenly Draco stood before them. Harry hoped his eyes would be unseeing, glazed, so he could know his lover was tranced, but instead they were rolling, terrified at the company he was in, and stunned into fear at the sight of Harry with trousers half unbuttoned.

_Draco. Draco, Draco, Draco …_ '_Draco_!' yelled the Boy who Lived. He tried to rush to his lover, but immediately Snape was there, barring the way with his body. Harry shivered remembering that body in their kiss.

'No, Harry, you're not getting to him. Why would you want to, anyway? You've made your choice, and you didn't choose him. So stay here.' Severus' voice sounded so natural, so mocking and seductive, and Harry had to fight with his brain to convince himself that it was not real and the speech was being fed to him.

'Harry?' Draco's voice was timid and wrenched Harry's soul. 'What does he mean, you've made your choice? What is he talking about? And what are you doing down here?'

'Ah, so you don't know, then, Draco?' Severus sneered. 'Well, perhaps we should tell you all about today's events. I'm sure it will be most enlightening.'

'Draco, don't listen to him, he's a servant of Voldemort, he's trying to convince you to join him, he's trying to turn us against each other …' A finger on his lip silenced him, and he shuddered violently when he realised Severus was touching him.

'Potter, you already are against each other,' Voldemort said suddenly. 'You've betrayed Draco, both with Severus, and _to_ me. You are accused firstly of sharing illicit actions with Severus, during the lunch hour earlier today, which I watched, and which were most entertaining. Then, secondly, over an hour ago now, when you could not sleep, you decided to come down here and see Severus again. You used the excuse of needing a Potion for sleeping. When Severus, who was still attracted to you, despite your earlier reprove, tried to seduce you again, you submitted to him, and became aroused, and it was then that I found you here. You cannot deny it; it is the truth.'

Harry had no answer for this but a defensive stare.

'Why,' spoke Draco's hard voice, 'should I believe anything you say to be true?'

'Because, my dear boy, you only have to look at your boyfriend to realise that it _is_ true.'

Harry listened to this impassively, but when Draco's eyes hit his, the strength drained him, and he sunk down onto the floor and covered his face in shame.

'It's the truth, then?'

No, Harry, he's a Malfoy, you don't have to admit anything to him, just deny it, it's easy, just say 'No' …

_ _

But Harry could not defend, not now when his body was so weak. He whispered but all three men could hear. 'Yes.'

He heard Draco choke but closed his eyes, wanted to be oblivious.

'Harry …'

'Dear me, Potter,' Voldemort hissed. 'You really _have_ made a mess of things. What are you going to do? And Draco, my boy, I'm most disappointed in _you_. Perhaps … perhaps we should punish you together … take you to the Death Eaters … let you battle it out between yourselves for favour …'

'It would be fair, Master, I think,' Severus said with a maliciousness in his eyes, 'to let the two boys have a few minutes together to … reconcile with each other. We could retreat to my chambers, make the arrangements to go back to Scotland … and Harry and Draco could maybe collect their thoughts.'

It was when he turned his back on the boys that Harry spied the newly grasped haematite in his hand.

'Very well, Severus. We shall return in … say, ten minutes. Please don't kill each other, will you? Lock the door, Professor.' Voldemort sneered at Harry and Draco once more, and then the two men both retreated, Snape throwing a cautious glance at Harry before closing the door of the store cupboard.

Immediately Harry turned to his lover. 'Draco …'

But Draco was staring at Harry with something suspiciously like hatred. 'Get away from me.'

'Please …'

'How is it that nothing lasts?' Draco snapped. 'Why does every blissful situation have to turn sour? Why does someone always feel the need for _betrayal_?'

Desperately Harry ran to the door of the dungeons, tugging it with his weak strength … and it opened. By all the gods in heaven, it opened. 'Severus,' he breathed, and then whispered with closed eyes: 'Thank you.'

He looked back at the blonde boy, whose lip was curled in disdain at the serpentine name. 'Draco, if you want them to take you, then by all means stay … but I don't know how I would cope if you left. I'm going to get help … I _love_ you Draco, I still do. Snape means nothing to me. He tried to attack me. Twice … three times … he tried to rape me.'

'And you _gave in_?' Draco said incredulously. 'You _enjoyed_ it?'

Harry swallowed hard. 'Yes.' He threw a final ruined glance at Draco, then turned and sprinted from the dungeons, mind suddenly blocking out thoughts of his former lover, and intent on reaching Dumbledore.

It felt a month of running passed before he found himself at the gargoyle, shouting: 'Professor!' It was late, too late. The Headmaster would be asleep, and he could do nothing. Balanced in anguish on a point of indecision, Harry wailed loudly. What could he possibly do? What was the password … what if Dumbledore did not even sleep here? What was there to do? Draco would be gone soon … Harry's head began to throb, began to whirl, and he felt nausea rise into his throat in ruination. He collapsed to the floor.

And then Dumbledore was there, was holding him up, was whispering a spell and Harry was suddenly alert, faced the Headmaster quite calmly.

'What is it?'

'Voldemort is here. He has Draco in the dungeons, and Snape is under his manipulation but fighting it. I think he might turn.'

There was no instant to wait for; Dumbledore turned and went back into his office, hand on Harry's shoulder to take him too. 'Floo powder,' he murmured. 'We'll take some. You have to get Draco out … I'll deal with Voldemort. Although Severus … do you know how to release Severus completely?'

Harry's mind flashed instantly, and he said: 'Shatter the obsidian.'

Dumbledore took a breath, and regarded the Boy Who Lived gently. 'Do it. I'll take care of Draco.'

Harry nodded. 'It's in his quarters, he said …'

Dumbledore quickly handed Harry some Floo powder, and at a moment's thought gave him Fawkes, too. Then he was gone to the dungeons in a shimmer of green fire.

Harry stepped into the fireplace, summoned every ounce of battle strength he had and flung the red powder to his feet. 'Severus Snape's quarters.'

His head roared, and he was there. How long had it been since he left Draco? More than five minutes … was it ten? Was it agonizingly ten?

Then Harry found himself in darkness, and muttered: 'Lumos,' vaguely and mildly surprised that he still had his wand. _So Severus can manipulate too … some day I will make a shrine to haematite._

It took only a few seconds to locate the quietly glowing obsidian, but Harry watched it carefully for a few more. It seemed to be fighting, and the fire was fading. It would be easy to pour magic into it and destroy it.

But what would happen to Severus? If he was no longer under Voldemort's manipulation, he was not under his protection. Without his protection, he could be killed. And would.

Although with Dumbledore, and Draco …

Harry teetered, wrangled, fought with his logic, and then with a roaring cry he directed his wand at the stone and shouted: 'Compleo!'

It was done, and the white liquid power flowed into the stone, quelling the fire, and cracked, fragmented, shattered the stone.

Harry's last thoughts before he fainted with exhaustion were of Draco.

*****

A/N: All will be explained in the next chapter. I am thinking of doing a JKR 'explaining everything in the hospital wing' type ending, so if I do please don't take the piss! And please review …

~SS~


	7. Where Will It End?

A/N: I'm not sure exactly why this is taking so long to get finished, although it could be something to do with the fact that the teachers at school are totally piling on work in the run-up to our real exams. You know, the ones that matter. Anyway, I apologise to all those who are annoyed with me … can't be many, I imagine.

*****

BLOODLUST 

Chapter Seven 

Harry was first aware of a heat pricking his eyelids, but it took hours before he felt secure enough to open them. The brightness was deafening and roared in his ears, and he passed out.

When he woke again the light was dimmed, and the curtains were closed. Harry's vision flutter, and he saw a shape approach him and wet his mouth with liquid before he slept once more.

Finally his eyes were comfortable with daylight, and his neck let him move. But there were other eyes staring at him, wide and anxious and masked. They twirled before him, dancing, flickering, and he could not see their colour. 'Draco?' he mumbled.

A form with the eyes shifted awkwardly, and Harry knew that quiet expression, knew the inability with words. '_Severus?'_

Snape cleared his throat harshly in understated reply.

Harry struggled to sit up, to rest his elbows on the pillow below his head. 'Where are … where's Dumbledore? And Draco?' Draco's pale, horrified face still hung above him, a dagger in the mind, and the silence of the image hunted him. But he could not find the strength to be guilty, clung desperately to the few strands of life that were left.

'Dumbledore's resting … he managed to drive Voldemort out, but he's exhausted. But Draco …' An anguished tone came into his voice. 'I tried, Harry, I tried, but I couldn't … couldn't …'

Harry slumped, feeling his eyes roll back in horror. 'He took Draco,' he said in a dead voice.

'Draco didn't do anything … Voldemort cast Cruciatus on Albus and me … and the pain … it's one thing when your arm is clean, but when he's connected to you …'

Harry could feel the air, felt Severus shake his head but did not see. 'He's lost, then … dead …'

'We can hope not, Harry.'

'So we rescue him.' Harry forced his muscles to move, tried to rise from the bed, inhaled and breathed Madam Pomfrey's crisp scent before his body collapsed onto the bed. 'We rescue him.' 

Severus held him down lightly. 'Harry …'

Harry felt his body respond to the word as it had before, but cursed it.

'There's no way we can rescue him, Harry. There are probably twenty Death Eaters there, and the Aurors will not risk their lives for Lucius' son. And the Death Eaters'll fight – Lucius won't want Draco to leave, and he has influence. Believe me … I've thought of all the possibilities,' and there his voice was bitter. 'I don't think we can get him back … we may have to resign ourselves.'

'Why are you giving up?' Harry asked in a broken voice. There was no time to think. 'Is it because he was mine? Is he … your rival? It is jealousy?'

Severus' eyes were lifeless. 'No, Harry … believe me, I've long given up on that. You never really wanted me.' He sighed. 'It was an illusion.'

Then Harry's mind snapped. He rose up and struck Severus on the chest, pushed him backwards onto the next bed and in an instant hung over him, threatening Snape's apprehension. 'Do you believe I would betray Draco over somebody I didn't want?'

Severus did not reply, but offered his mouth to Harry gently, shifting long and languid on the bed. 'Tell me you don't feel anything deeper, then.'

Harry regarded this life-stricken man, one who hated himself and most others, who hated his very existence and hated his cowardice at not ending it. Then he saw in Severus the intelligence, the dry wit, the awkward affection and the physical experience. And he contemplated the entirety with which Severus was offering himself to Harry, the acceptance that now there was no living without love.

Then he thought of Draco. A feline animal, a white cat of Slytherin, who was fit to rival his Head of House. But he had no subtlety, no understanding of the darkness that reigned unchecked in Harry. He cared instead. He loved Harry, with a fascination stemming mainly from their different backgrounds, a need for something to take him away from the influence of his father. A rebellion, really. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Sexual, and proudly affectionate.

Severus could give in a way that Draco could not. Severus could give his soul, his body, and his mind. Harry loved the serpent in him, the cold sarcasm and the sudden aggression of lust. It had to be admitted. Harry did love Severus, and had done even while Severus had attacked him.

Again he regarded Severus, on his back, giving himself. He watched Severus' eyes, wonderfully clever, and beautifully black. Jet black. They held venom for those who angered him, but there was fear, too. Fear that Harry shared. Fear for happiness.

And somehow now Harry accepted that Draco was gone, and Draco as a person no longer seemed to matter, symbolised something that was lost in Harry, the need for shallow physical comfort. There was a pang, yes, but a soft pang, a soul-comforted needle, and it did not bleed. Draco was probably already dead. He was gone, and it was Severus' time.

Harry could not resist, could not ally himself with his conscience any longer. Slowly he lowered himself down onto Severus, and rested his head on the man's chest. 'I think I'm in love with you.' His hand brushed Severus' bare arm where his black shirt had loosened, and he felt the man wince. 'The Mark's still there?'

'Voldemort's not dead. Until he is, it'll stay there. That was how we all knew that he wasn't gone, before … I hate the thing. I could gauge out my own arm, sometimes, if it would help … but if you have me, Harry, you have me with the Mark. And Voldemort will know.'

Severus' eyes were tormented, but they spoke of truth. 'Will you have me, Harry?'

Harry only murmured: 'Yes.'

And Draco was gone, and Harry began to softly weep, wept for the shifting of feelings and for the loss of young love. _It all ends today._

*****

'Severus has explained to me about the … relationship between yourself and Mr Malfoy, Harry. But I hope you understand that we have little hope of getting him back.'

Harry nodded calmly. His eyes were a little red, perhaps, but the sorrow of losing a former lover was not pressing. _This is what it is like to accept something so utterly. _'He's dead, isn't he?'

Dumbledore's eyes were guarded, but sad. 'I … I think it is … probable.'

*****

Harry had not seen Ron or Hermione since the invasion. He had been in a private section of the hospital wing, so they could not come and visit him. They had not known where he was, but Dumbledore had assured them that he was fine and so they had had to wait.

As he left Dumbledore's office, he mused on what kind of relationship he would have with them now. They had no hope of understanding what had happened to Harry, and he knew he did not really want them to. But how could he feel close to anyone who did not understand? How could he have friends now? Severus was there, of course, but when they were not alone they had to pretend they still loathed each other. Just as it had been with Draco.

Only Severus knew, and Severus could not be there when Harry needed him.

Suddenly, Harry turned abruptly, and strode into an empty classroom, threw himself down against a cupboard. Severus wasn't there, and he was alone …

Harry stared into the dimness of the unlit room for a few minutes, contemplating, and then began to murmur tunelessly to himself. 'Severus isn't here, you're alone, Harry, Ron and Hermione are gone, you're alone … there's only silence for you, Harry, the Boy who Lived is silent …'

He stopped, and listened. He could hear nothing. But glancing at the clock on the wall – one o'clock – he was not surprised. Lunch. They were almost a quarter of a mile away. He was in silence.

_Silence is the perfect listener._

How long had it been? He did not know how long he had slept in the hospital, and he did not know how long Severus had had to think things over. He had certainly seemed sure, more sure than Harry. 

But now Harry was in silence, and he could think.

'What will happen now?' he asked the darkness softly. 'Draco's gone, he's left … Dumbledore has nothing to explain to the school, he can only say Lucius wanted him out … that's true … Ron and Hermione won't believe it, they'll see the connection between us anyway … will they know Severus was involved? He hasn't been teaching, I think … is he at lunch, though?

'Who's on my side? Severus, yes … and Dumbledore … but he's on everyone's side, he doesn't know what it's like to be dark … am I dark, though? I've had darkness, I've lusted for darkness. Severus is dark … Severus is dark, and I want him … but I want people close to me. Ron and Hermione'll pretend to understand, but they'll avoid the subject because they won't really … would Sirius know? He's been in Azkaban … but he's so against darkness, and sometimes I think I'm part of it. I am, if I'm part of Severus …'

He leant his head against the cupboard hard, and then was startled by a voice from the doorway.

'Where does it end?'

Harry looked up, recognised the unrecognisable silhouette. 'Where does what end?'

Severus came into the room, closed the door softly. He was not dressed in his usual black robes, but the classic black shirt, and black jeans, and as he exposed his body forwards from leaning against a desk, Harry noticed its litheness. 'The torment, Harry. When is it going to stop? When is your life going to be better?' It was not a criticism; Severus' voice was too tired for it, but it was a question, and one that Harry had not wanted to think about.

'Severus … I think you understand … it's just there doesn't seem to be any way out now … I can't go through my life with only you on my side, being there for me. And Ron and Hermione … they'll try, but I can't let them waste their time. They won't help, I know. But who is there? It doesn't feel like I can ever go back to school, really, I don't think I'll be able to concentrate on anything so trivial. But you're here, so I can't leave, or I'm really on my own. I just don't know what I am supposed to do.'

'There … there are drugs, Harry,' Severus replied. 'They would help … but I suspect you don't want to be addicted to something for the rest of your life.'

'Maybe I should end my life,' Harry said bitterly. 'What have I got left, anyway? You're right, the drugs are just fake, they won't be useful … I'm supposed to deal with this, but I don't know how. I can't see any way out.'

Severus looked almost panicked. 'Harry, don't end your life. It isn't worth it. You won't gain anything … believe me, I've thought about it enough. Besides … if you go, who do I have left?'

Then Harry was curious. 'Who did you have before me?'

Severus shrugged slightly. 'Voldemort, I suppose. He was a good master. And some of the pastimes of the Death Eaters can be very satisfying …'

Harry almost choked at this. 'Rape, and torture? Satisfying? You've _done them?_ You've raped people?'

'It's not like I don't feel _guilty_ or anything,' Severus snapped in defence. 'But yes, I've done them. And I enjoyed them. Don't give me the thoughts you're thinking, Harry; I've thought them far too often. My Pensieve is deeply depressing. I don't want to hear it.'

'It doesn't answer the original question, though.' Harry lowered his voice to a soft apology. 'What's going to happen, and how can we get out of this?'

'We leave.'

'I'm sorry?'

'We leave,' Severus repeated, and suddenly his voice was rapid, inspired. 'We go somewhere, away from Hogwarts, away from everyone who knows us, and we go to a new place, away from Voldemort. And we help each other, and we make new friends, friends who don't need to know about things, not necessarily wizards. People we can talk to, and people who can accept that we're … together.' He stood properly. 'You lose some, Harry … you can keep in touch with Ron and Hermione … hell, you can even see them if you like, but you know you can't really be close to them now. You said it yourself. You win some, you lose some … and we've lost this one. We could go, pack up and go.'

'How would we survive?'

Another shrug. 'We can use magic for anything we need. And I'll teach you, about Potions, and everything, anything, and we can just do what we want for the rest of our lives. No responsibilities. Forget Voldemort. If you're not a threat to him, and if he knows you're not a threat to him, he won't want you, anyway.'

Harry was beginning to breathe faster at the idea, taking the breaths of excitement. To be free of it all … it was tempting, so very tempting, and at that minute he knew he would accept it, and he knew it was the only option …

'I …' _Say the word, Harry, say 'yes,' it's easy … go on …_

But something was holding Harry back. And afterwards he would wonder whether it had been a premonition, whether he had known all along. 'I …'

And then the door opened.

Severus glanced at the light that was filtering into the room, and his face grew deathly pale. 

'Draco …'

*****

A/N: Yes, it's a cliffhanger. I do apologise most sincerely. *****shrug* Ah well, shit happens. Hee hee.

Anyway, I don't know how long the next chapter will be. Almost certainly less time than this one took, but I can't guarantee anything. But reviews will definitely help a lot … please!


	8. Warning

A/N: Ok, I don't have much to say about this chapter … thanks to all who reviewed. The story is definitely coming to a climax, really. There isn't a lot more I'm going to be able to do with it.

BLOODLUST

Chapter 8

For almost a minute none of the three moved, save the cautious flicking of Draco's eyes between Harry and Severus. Then Harry's body jolted, and suddenly he was shaking in shock, desperate confused eyes fixed on his former lover.

Severus took a breath slowly, flexing his strong fingers as Harry stalled. He knew that his presence was doing no good in the boys' first meeting since they had parted, but somehow he could not leave. He had to know Harry's reaction … although the boy could make worse mistakes than a first-year, he was honest and passionate, and the slice of helplessness in his eyes was endearing, and by the Gods, Severus _loved_ him …

He turned his gaze from Harry to Draco, and studied him carefully. He looked practically unharmed, save a cut on his eyebrow, but in the instant when he had seen Harry, his hand had snaked to his left arm, and Severus shivered as he watched the young Death Eater.

'I see.' Draco's thin lips moved almost imperceptibly, and the murmur was cold. 'You're lovers now … I see.'

Severus knew he could not stand between the two – he was too far from Harry to be allowed to claim him – and he could not let Draco believe something that was, so far, untrue. 'Draco … it's not like that … we haven't touched each other, not really …'

Draco ignored him. His eyes went curiously blank, and as he stepped forwards he cleared his throat. 'I bring a message from the Dark Lord,' he said flatly. 'You both have a decision to make. Whichever of you goes to him will be killed; the other will be spared. If neither of you go, we will attack the school, and kill Dumbledore and all the Muggle-borns. I will also be killed. If you both go to him, you will both die, but I will be completely released and we will leave Dumbledore and Hogwarts alone. It is your choice, but if either of you go, you must be in Scotland – you know where,' and he directed his stare at Severus, 'by sunset tomorrow. Now I return to my Master. Dumbledore does not know I have been here.'

A slight smirk creased his mouth, and with a graceful but unmistakeably mocking bow, Draco was gone. 

Severus steeled his expression to one of grave endurance. He had been trained for situations like these: having to make decisions, to prioritise between emotional attachment and one's own welfare, or that of one's Master. Inevitably, Voldemort had always taken precedence before. But now there was Harry, and returning his thoughts to the present, Severus was frightened, and glanced at the boy.

Harry stared straight ahead, mouth slightly open. When Severus shifted his weight, his head snapped towards his teacher.

'Well?' Severus asked gently. 'What do we do?' And then he could see Harry's body straining to bolt, and he turned away to allow him to leave.

But suddenly a pair of thin arms wrapped around his waist, and Severus gave a low cry, and turned to embrace the Boy Who Lived.

'Severus, you know as well as I what our choice should be,' Harry murmured.

Severus nodded against Harry's tousled hair. '_Should_ be … but it can't be. I will go to him, Harry. You'll be free, of him, and me … and everything.'

Harry raised his head and misty green met hollowness. 'I don't _want_ to be free of you!' he said, suddenly aggressive. 'I love you … we should both go, to make it fair … and what sort of a life do you think I'd have if I lost you, as well as everything else?'

And then Severus checked Harry, checked himself.

Things had, unexpectedly, got worse.

Both knew that, by their duty to Dumbledore and the school, they should both surrender, both go for fairness to each other. Even Albus would probably agree with that, despite the inevitable sadness that would lurk in his blue eyes. Nor could they desert Hogwarts, and leave it utterly empty for the Death Eaters to find – it was the safest place in the whole of Britain for wizarding folk, and they would easily be killed if they left.

And anyway … even in the face of the seeming black hole that was Severus' memory of his life, in the face of the unspeakable atrocities he had committed, and relished, _he wanted to live_. Harry's eyes held an earnestness hat touched Severus further down than any brazen, arrogant sexiness could. He seemed to look up to Severus with a guarded, wary affection, and the Slytherin's shattered soul clung so desperately to the possibility of love that Severus wondered how he had ever lived without it. The lust for Harry was secondary, but still overpowering: the boy had tough muscles strengthened by Quidditch, and he moved with a contained strength that did not match his modesty. The combination was a chord that Severs had never heard, and the disharmony intrigued him, fired his desire. He revelled in the idea that he might possess Harry, either physically or spiritually.

And, of course, Severus, being one always to be utter, was prepared to give everything in return.

But he was not able to judge himself, or the situation. And so, like a coward, Severus fled. 

*****

_Where is your Gryffindor courage, Harry?_

_Once you were everything – Ginny Weasley swooned over you, the rest admired you. You survived Voldemort, lived to tell the tale, lived to be worshipped, lived to be happy and to laugh._

_Once you were a Gryffindor, and you could laugh at peril._

_Now it is a different sort of peril, Harry. Now it is emotional torment, disastrous if you let it be, but you can still fight it. Why are you not fighting it, Harry? Was Fawkes' feather for nothing? Has that wand not given you a strength equal to Voldemort's, made greater by lust for revenge? Are you going to admit defeat to simple emotions?_

_It's Voldemort's ploy, Harry. He's trying to distance you from everyone who has the power to help you. Even Severus has betrayed his Master, has betrayed himself, really. He loves you, and he's probably perfectly happy to betray everything he told himself was important. Might he not do the same with you?_

_Are there any people you can call friends? Is there anyone who has stuck by your side? Not Ron … he's too temperamental. But there is Hermione._

Hermione.

_Should she be involved in this shit? It'd be a lot to take in._

_But she's clever, and mature, and supportive. And she loves you, and she's worried about you. And perhaps she hates Severus now, but if you explain …_

_Is it worth a try? Will you ever be able to be friends with her otherwise?_

_No._

_Harry. Go. Ron … you'll have to leave Ron. He's baggage, and he only cares about you as a 'mate.' He's been fickle before. You can't deal with that at the moment. No … Hermione is what you need._

Shame about Ron, though.

*****

As Harry crept closer to the Great Hall, he could hear voices coming towards him, and he realised that the students had finished lunch. They were approaching … silent shadows to prey on his soul, and he swept behind a stone archway, panting in fright. Where was she?

And then he saw Ron, and felt his face pale. The redhead was alone, and looked more terrible than Harry had ever seen him: worried, ashen-faced. The faint flush of anger resided in his freckled cheeks, and Harry guessed that he and Hermione had quarrelled. _So much the better, then_.

He was not prepared for the stab of pain in his heart, but quickly he understood it. He and Ron had been best friends for … it was five years, almost. And now, to leave him, when he wanted Harry back, when he worried and cared about him so much … Harry's guilt augmented sharply, but it was not the numbing, anguished sensation that he had felt a few days before, but a tender, almost gentle prick in his side.

But Ron was gone.

Hermione would follow, surely.

And of course, in her concerned, desperate way, Hermione, the angel of friendship, hurried from the Great Hall after her friend.

'Hermione.' Harry realised suddenly how much his voice must have changed from its faintly adolescent hum: it was now lower, softer, and gloomy.

Hermione started, looked around, and exclaimed in a whisper when she glimpsed him in his hiding place. 'Harry!'

He beckoned to her, and she immediately followed him down the corridor to a deserted dead end. 'Where have you _been_? No one would tell us, we thought you were _dead_ or something!'

She too looked weary and depressed, and Harry could tell that she had been more deeply affected than Ron had. 'Hermione, I'll tell you what happened. Everything. I mean it … you won't like all of it, or any of it … I don't know. But you can't tell Ron … I'm not ready for him to know, yet. He wouldn't take it well. I may never tell him. But I'll tell you.'

Hermione nodded silently, letting him finish, and her pale face was almost luminous in the darkness. 'Shall we go somewhere, then?' she asked quietly.

A slight nod, and Harry was on quick light footsteps once more, treading with a fright Hermione had not seen in him until now. He could tell it scared her.

An empty classroom. He smiled bitterly. A different one, but the taint was there. Draco's betrayal … and Severus' promise.

'Tell me, then.' Hermione was watching him cautiously. She knew it was serious, and Harry knew just as surely that he had chosen well.

And so he let his ashamed voice entwine into the air, and he told the smoky story.

'Hermione … I'm … I'm not attracted to … to girls. I'm attracted to … other men. Boys. And … for a while now … months, I suppose … I've been seeing … Draco Malfoy. I don't know how it happened, really. But suddenly …' Harry jerked his hand, trying to convey the incredible emotion of that time. 'And that was it, and we were … together … Draco and me. It was …' He swallowed. 'It was sex, mainly. But we were connected, we were from such different backgrounds … we could hardly help there being _some_ sort of attraction.'

He could not look at her, but continued, hypnotic, addicted to his own words, his own retelling of his own nightmare.

'But anyway … I was going to meet him one night, and Professor Snape … well, he tried to attack me. And he had these red eyes, and they glowed … I thought he was mad. And he explained, when he came to. It's Voldemort … we knew he was an unfaithful Death Eater, but Voldemort knows, and knew, about his infidelity. And he was controlling Snape through obsidian. Making him go mad … to try to kill me.

'But he did other things, too. He tried to … to rape me. And then I found the haematite, the neutral stone that jerked him out of the bloodlust. And he stopped … he became sane, but he … he kissed me. And I kissed him back, I responded … he's incredible, really. Severus. But Voldemort came to kill me, and Draco found out, and he was going to take us away. But Severus helped me to escape, he fought Voldemort … Draco couldn't move, he was so shocked. And he was taken away … I don't know how Voldemort got in, Hermione … but anyway, Draco's a Death Eater now.

'And I think I'm in love with Severus. I know he loves me, and I think I could be with him. He's … he's amazing. Not pure, not good, certainly, but he's the strongest person I've ever met. I think he's what I need. Well … until Draco came back. About half an hour ago, maybe more. No one knows he came back. But he issued a challenge … a warning, really.' Harry quickly related Draco's words again, flinching as the memory of them seared his mind.

'And I do not know what to do, Hermione … help me.'

Finally, slowly, he looked at her.

She was crying … he had expected it of her, but the pain in her eyes was beyond everything. She knew something.

'What do I do?' His voice was more panicked now, dreading what she might say.

She raised her face to him, tears staining her cheeks. 'What else can you do?' she whispered. 'Harry … I think you must go to Voldemort. I think you and Severus have to die.'

And although this confirmed that which Harry already knew, really, he clung to her, buried his face in her shoulder and wept like a child.

*****

A/N: It's shorter than some, I think … but I don't think I anticipated what Harry was going to do. And I can't really anticipate what'll happen now. But I would appreciate some reviews, please.

Thanks for reading.

~SS~


	9. Oh God, No

A/N: I know this has been ages in coming. Several months, I believe. But I think I needed a rest from it. It was beginning to close in on me, and I couldn't see clearly what was going to happen next. I think I have a better idea now. It's not going to go on much longer, and hopefully it'll be finished soon. Thanks for your patience, though. I've received a few reviews over the last couple of months; had it not been for them, it is likely I would have completely forgotten Bloodlust, and my Severus.

*****

BLOODLUST 

Chapter 9 

Harry wasted no time; he went straight to Severus, assuring Hermione that he would see her again soon, before they left. Hermione had been a blessing. Already his mind was thinking more clearly, and his Gryffindor strength was returning. He could see now. He could see that he had to die.

Severus knew it, too. Severus knew what had to happen. After all the confusion, they had still found love, and there was no way either of them was giving it up now. He realised now that Voldemort had sent Draco with the message for a reason. Harry still had a weakness for his former lover. He had not made love with Severus, and so his body still remembered very well what the feline Slytherin's embrace felt like. The pleasure was not something that could easily be forgotten.

But he would not be confused by old feelings. He loved Severus, and that was that. He was going to go with Severus. Voldemort would not break his will with tricks. Not this time.

As he went, Harry broke into a run, hoping fervently that he would not meet any other students. He had to reach Severus, and together they had to see Dumbledore. Dumbledore had to know what was happening. Oh, it was all so complicated.

His footsteps began to sound louder on the stone floor, and he suddenly wished he had his Invisibility Cloak. If he should meet Ginny, or Neville, or –

'Harry!'

Or Ron.

The redhead emerged from a doorway as Harry slowed. There was no point; Ron could run faster than him, anyway.

'Harry?' Ron repeated. 'What are you – where have you been?'

Harry held up two shaking hands. 'Ron, don't ask questions, I - I won't answer them. I'm going now. I need to find someone.' He turned, but felt a rough hand catch his shoulder.

'Going _where?_ Harry, tell me …' Ron's voice was growing rather plaintive now, and Harry suspected that he would not be able to leave as easily as he had hoped. He stared firmly along the corridor, determined to avoid Ron's eyes.

'Tell me, Harry!'

'No.' He could not control himself, and he had spoken without thinking, but, by God, this was for Severus!

'Tell me …'

'No, Ron. I can't.'

'What the _fuck's_ happened to you?' Ron yelled. 'We're best mates – or we used to be … we haven't seen you for days, Harry! For God's sake, _tell me_.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'No.' _Please, please, Ron, shut up and let me go._

'Shit, Harry, do I have to _beat_ it out of you? Where have you been?'

Suddenly a spasm of anger seized Harry, and blindly he lashed at Ron's face. He was not trying to hinder, as he might before. He was trying to hurt.

And hurt he did. Barely seconds later Ron was on the floor, blood on his face and mouth, eyes closed. But Harry could not stop. His best friend lay unconscious, but all he could think of was that he and Severus were going to die.

'Goodbye, Ron,' he whispered, and ran on, pretending that the tears were not streaming from his eyes, pretending that he was not glad to have seen Ron one last time. Even if it had been like this.

_Shame about Ron, though._ He let out a silent wail of pain.

He arrived in Severus' office panting, tear-stained, desperately wanting the comfort of his love. He had his arms out, ready, and his feet danced, on the mark to run to Severus.

But Severus was not there. 

And in his place stood Albus Dumbledore.

*****

'Harry, come in,' the old man said gently. He extended a thin hand to the chair at Severus' desk, and Harry, bewildered, sank into it, feeling the curves of Severus' bones in the sculpted fabric.

'Professor, sir … where's Severus?'

Dumbledore hesitated too long.

'Sir, where is he … where's he gone?' When Dumbledore still did not answer, Harry's small voice rose, and grew in a thin shriek; involuntarily he lifted himself from the leather. 'Where is he?'

And then Dumbledore's hands were on his shoulders, astonishingly strong, forcing him back down into the chair. His breath was coming in shallow, half-sobbing gasps. 'Professor …'

'Harry, please … calm down. Breathe. Breathe, slowly … slower. Slower, Harry … that's it. Good.'

Harry swallowed as his body calmed. 'Please tell me, Dumbledore … where's he gone? Is he ill? Is he in his rooms? I need to go to him – please, tell me where he is.'

Dumbledore looked closely into Harry's face, his blue eyes very serious. His face was grey, really _grey_, as grey as his hair, almost. For a split second Harry wondered what was making him look so exhausted.

And then he knew.

He choked; he could not breathe; his eyes widened as he fought for air against the shock. But he still managed to force out the words: 'Oh, God, Severus …'

'Harry, I am afraid you know where Severus has gone, but I feel that I should tell you anyway, in case you have the wrong -' 

'He's gone,' Harry said brokenly, 'to sacrifice himself to Voldemort.' Saying the words somehow doubled the impact, tripled it, gave it more power than an earthquake, and a flood of anguish rose up in his throat, could not be contained. Suddenly he rose, flung himself from Dumbledore's grip and ran for the door. 'Severus … please God, no … Severus …' The sobs were like nothing he had ever felt before. The grief was too much; he could not let out a wail loud enough to express it. '_Severus!_' he screamed.

_Be in Scotland by sunset tomorrow …_

'No – no …'

'Harry!'

Dumbledore's voice was loud, loud enough to reach the class above and make them jump in their seats – was that Dumbledore shouting? - but Harry did not hear him. All he could hear was Draco's voice, feel Severus' quiet awkward shifting, knew that he had made his mind up from the beginning. 'God, Severus …'

The tears would not stop, stung his eyes and blurred his sight so that he did not realise he was throwing aside warm bodies and limbs to get to his dormitory, to get to his broomstick … if he could get to his Firebolt, perhaps he could reach Severus before he got there, surely he had not Apparated there .. oh God, where was the dormitory?

Suddenly his body froze, and although he screamed until his lungs burned for his legs to move, no sound issued from his lips, and he was stock still, his arms by his side. He was all at once aware of a deathly silence all around him, though there were eyes, eyes that were hollow, eyes that mocked him, eyes that were frightened and eyes that were fiery with curiosity, ruthless curiosity …

Dumbledore appeared in front of him, in the sea of skin and hair and the eyes, those eyes … 

'Harry,' he said calmly, 'I am taking you to my office. Please do not attempt anything – I will stop you quite easily. Come.'

With a flicker of his wand he released Harry's legs, and Harry followed him quickly, desperate above all things to get away from those dark eyes, eyes that told him that Severus was going to die. He knew he should be humiliated, but he could not bear it. All that was in his mind was Severus, and Severus' death. Severus was going to die. He was going to lose the person who knew the most about him, who cared about him the most.

Severus had sacrificed himself to save Harry.

*****

In Dumbledore's office, the Headmaster returned to Harry the full use of his body and voice. 'Harry, I'm going to explain to you what happened. Please do not interrupt yet.'

Harry nodded slowly. At least Dumbledore would tell him the truth.

'Severus came to me about an hour ago to tell me about Draco's visit. He explained to me then and there that he was going to go alone, without telling you. He did not anyone to try and stop him – he wanted to die to save you. He told me he loved you. He told me that you were young and that you deserved to live, whereas his whole life had been a lie and he did not have a reason to survive. I pointed out that you might not see it that way, but … I could not argue with him. He was crying, Harry, weeping, for you.

'Saving the school was his secondary motive. He does – did - not believe that Voldemort would leave Hogwarts alone if you both went to him, as then he would be free of his word and could do as he chose. But if only one of you went, then there was still something to bargain for. Severus thought that Voldemort had something more complex in mind for you, Harry, and that he would not simply be content with killing you in a raid on the school. The idea was to force both of you to go.

'Severus is more than aware that you are more important in fighting Voldemort than himself, and so he willingly left. He left about half an hour ago – I believe he is flying down to Hogsmeade and Apparating from there to Scotland.'

Dumbledore's eyes grew a shade darker.

'Please, Harry, do not think of going after him. You will not succeed, and Severus' intention was that you would remain safe. If you go after him, his sacrifice will have been for nothing, and you know it. Now that Severus has sacrificed himself for you, you cannot be touched. Remember your mother, Harry. Remember her sacrifice. Must another die for you? You must stay here.'

'But I _loved_ him!' Harry burst out. 'I wanted to die with him, I … how am I supposed to live now? Without love? I know it came about strangely and quickly, and I still can't quite believe it all, and I'm probably not thinking properly, but how can it be best for me to live without anyone who understands, anyone who knows the full story?'

Dumbledore glanced downwards briefly. 'Harry, I … you can always talk to me, you know.'

'Don't pretend you understand, Dumbledore!' he flared. 'You don't know how it feels, to have something snatched away from you just as you've begun to cling to it.' More tears started up in his eyes. 'I can't carry on … there's no point.'

'Harry, you have to,' the Headmaster said firmly. 'You must keep going. Severus wanted it. Severus knew how you would feel, and he asked me to take care of you. For Severus' sake, you must go on.' Then his gaze softened. 'Please, Harry. Try.'

He rose from his chair. 'I'll let you go, now. Use Floo to get back to … well, you can use Severus' rooms if you wish. Take as long as you need to adjust to what has happened. We are all here to help you. I won't tell the staff what has happened just yet, but they will be told that Severus Snape is not returning to the school.' Dumbledore nodded. 'You may go.'

*****

A/N: That was the penultimate chapter, I believe. Strangely enough, I hadn't predicted Severus' disappearance, until suddenly Harry reached the dungeons and I knew what had to happen. Funny how things like that just push their way onto the keyboard. 


	10. The End

A/N: This is the final chapter, I believe. I'm not sure how happy you'll be with me about the ending, but I hope you'll agree with me that it could not really have ended any other way. I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, even when it wasn't praise – like many writers I do appreciate constructive criticism, _if_ it's constructive and not just random abuse. Anyway, it's been a long time coming, I know, but it's done now.

By the way, some of the other chapters have been revised and replaced. Only stylistic revisions, you understand – nothing drastic in the plot. Just places where there wasn't enough explanation, where things happened too fast, or where I used a phrase I didn't like, or something. You see, when I decided to finish the story, I had to read the original chapters to work out exactly what was happening, and you know what it's like when you read something you wrote a long time ago … you cringe. If I had the time, I would probably read everything I've written every day and correct it until I was satisfied, but unfortunately I don't have time. Life's hard.

Anyway, enough from me. On with the story.

*****

BLOODLUST 

Chapter 10 

Part One – The remembrance and the hymn 

Harry wandered about Severus' old rooms for a long time, simply breathing. It had taken him a while to separate the different smells of the rooms. Now, though, he had, and they echoed in different ears with horrifying poignancy which all pointed to one conclusion – Severus was dead.

Firstly, and possibly most noticeable to someone who did not know Severus was the smell of books. They lined the walls, some on shelves but many in piles. There were books all around the desk, scattered and heaped in corners, decaying but holding the reams of knowledge that Severus had exposed himself to. 

Moving towards the bed, there was the musky hot scent of sex, testament to what Voldemort had made Severus do under the influence of the stone. Harry shuddered when he considered how carefully Voldemort had constructed Severus' lust for Harry in his servant's mind. Little had he known it would lead so definitely to something stronger, something that could threaten him. He had meant to kill Harry, and now he had Severus instead.

Finally there was the smell of darkness – fragments of obsidian embedded in the walls from when Harry had smashed the stone, and they still covered the floor. Severus had obviously not thought to clear them away. They emanated an ominous scent, the smell of blood and sweat and loathing, and self-denial, and it was this that penetrated Harry most strongly. He breathed it in for perhaps ten minutes, remembering, loving in anguish, not allowing himself to cry.

Severus was gone, Severus was dead. He had killed himself to save Harry, and he had killed himself to save his beloved school. Everything he had done was unavoidably directed at Harry. Harry was safe, and that was what Severus had wanted.

As much as Harry tried to wriggle away from it, the memory of Severus clung to everything in the room, every chair, every dark painting, every single page of every book. These had been Severus' rooms, and they were singing to him.

Harry slumped on the floor, listening as the wordless, incomprehensible singing grew louder, and louder, and finally leapt into a crescendo so hopeless that it could not be controlled. It grew onwards, pouring itself into Harry's head, until he could not bear it any more. He jumped up and cried: 'Stop!'

There was silence, and then a faint murmur, as if the rooms were asking why they should no longer voice their love for their master.

'Severus is dead,' Harry said quietly. 'He is not returning to these rooms. Please, just be quiet.'

And then the room stilled, and Harry continued to breathe, remembering and not hearing them whisper.

*****

Part Two – The Voice 

He did not know how long he slept, but when he woke it was dark. Very dark, and he could see nothing. The blackness hung about him, smothering him, blinding and deafening him. Harry looked about him quickly, his breathing coming faster, his muscles beginning to shake. He was alone in the darkness, and there was no Severus.

Then a light appeared. A glowing, faint light fell on Harry and swept into his eyes so he could see.

'Harry.'

That voice! That wonderful, quiet, beautiful voice.

'Severus?' he cried. 'Is that you?'

'Yes, Harry, it's me.'

A terrible, all-consuming fiery hope sprung into him and he spun, looking all about him. 'Where are you?'

Severus' voice grew gentler. 'You know where I am, Harry. Look outside.'

Harry turned again towards the light, and realised he was looking through Severus's window into the night sky. He began to walk, edging his feet across the floor at first, but then beginning to hurry, desperate above all things to reach Severus.

Outside, he saw nothing but the moon.

'Severus? Where are you? Are you in the garden?'

'Harry,' the voice said patiently, 'I am in the world of death. I am dead. You know that is where I am.'

Harry sank his head into his arms on the windowsill. 'I know,' he whispered.

The moon began to rise in the sky, lifting high above Hogwarts. 'Follow me up, Harry, and talk to me for a while. Go up.'

'Yes!' Harry cried, and he ran towards the door, knowing that unless he could find some stairs he would despair. He ran with the wind and the flowing air at his feet, not noticing himself tiring, just wanting Severus.

He followed the moon up, stopping at every window, and asking: 'Is this high enough?' But every time, Severus replied: 'No, Harry, not yet.'

When he reached the astronomy tower, he paused. It was the highest place in the school. If that was not high enough, how could he possibly talk to Severus if the moon was rising? What would he have to do? How would he be able to bear the pain if he could not go higher and talk to his lover?

But after a time of struggling, Harry's love for Severus gave him hope, and so he wrenched open the door and bounded up the steps.

*****

Part Three: The Climb and the Trick 

Severus murmured to him as he climbed: 'That's it, Harry, higher … soon you'll be close to me … higher … keep going, please … please, Harry …'

And just as Harry felt he could not go on, for his body was so weary with trauma and grief, Severus said: 'I love you, Harry,' and he sprung with renewed energy, up and up. Higher.

At the top, he settled himself at the huge window to gaze earnestly into the moon's face. 

'Severus,' he breathed, trying to fight back tears. 'Severus.'

The moon was bright, so very bright, and so enticing, and Harry stretched out his arms to it, as he had the day before when he had wanted Severus, and Severus had gone, he had gone, and been killed …

'_Severus_ …'

'Harry, you must listen to me.' Severus' voice was serious, but it still struck horrifying chords in Harry, chords that he had never known existed, chords of love and desire and passion and grief. All mingled, all together, and the taste of it was bitter, bitter.

Tears started in Harry's eyes. 'I'm listening, Severus,' he answered in a voice low with fear.

The moon glowed brighter still. 'Harry,' it said, 'come to me. You are not high enough yet. Come higher, and come to me. Together we can be happy … come, Harry – come to me.'

A delicious coolness and softness began to steal over Harry at those words. He was safe … he was in nearly in Severus' grasp, and soon he would be blissfully happy with his lover. All he had to do was to climb to the moon, and Severus would be waiting for him, glowing white and bright and high …

He lifted himself easily onto the thick stone windowsill. 'Shall I climb to you from here?' he asked.

'Yes, Harry,' the moon answered. 'Climb to me, Harry, and we can be happy here as we were never allowed to be on earth; we can make love as we never had the chance to … I am your Severus, Harry. I'm waiting … come to me, please.'

The tears began to run down Harry's cheeks, but they were tears of sheer joy. 'I'm coming, Severus …'

The moon began to fade, leaving, fading away, moving further higher into the distance of the sky.

'Wait for me, Severus,' Harry whispered. 'I love you …'

He left the windowsill, and began to climb. His face was pale in the white misty glow, and was lit with pure happiness. 

'Goodbye, Harry,' said the moon.

There was a blinding flash of green light. Harry was dead before he hit the ground.

THE END 

*****

Oh … I loved Severus, too …

(Oh, by the way, for all you clever-clogs who are saying: 'But Voldemort couldn't kill Harry, because of Severus' sacrifice!' – just think about the possibilities, would you?)

Thank you so much, everyone who has followed this story. I would like to thank especially … probably my friends in the *real* world, who read this story in its early stages. (And yes, some of them did squirm in disgust.) But the ones who didn't, Cat, Loz, Anna, Rachel and Tara, deserve the highest thanks. I love you all.

I'm rather sad to leave this story. Major angst. But if I ramble, it'll kind of spoil it, huh?

Oh, well.

Goodbye.

~SS~


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